


Classic Love Songs

by pene



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 17:56:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1574456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pene/pseuds/pene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post ep for 3.18</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Then June will see Kurt through Blaine’s eyes, invite Kurt to be a part of this wonderful showcase they’re pulling together, and Kurt will shine beyond all expectations. They’ll shine together. And all will be right with Blaine’s world.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Classic Love Songs

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Corinna

The A train shudders to a stop in the tunnel between 14th and 23rd. Blaine shifts in his seat and sighs a little as he contemplates the book in his lap. He flips a page, mouths some words as he reads.

_Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,_  
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun  
And I will love thee still, my dear,  
While the sands o’ life shall run 

It’s beautiful, though he admits that even in his head his Scottish accent needs some work. He’ll arrange an extra tutorial with Ms. McNairy.

He turns another page, glances at his watch then out the window.

Blaine has long been a master of squeezing every possible minute out of a day. He has done everything and done it all well. These days that’s increasingly difficult. He has to fit classes and rehearsals, tête-à-têtes with June and romantic interludes with Kurt. He has to commute to school, and write a précis for his paper on immigrant playwrights, and plan a showcase, and lie with his head on his fiancé’s lap for five minutes before dozing off helplessly. He’s using all of his formidable planning skills to fit those essentials in. He hardly gets to see Sam. He’s done no crafting in weeks. He’s struggling to find time to track down a store which stocks local, organic buttermilk for pancakes. And his facial toning and cleansing regime is shot.

Everything is essentially working, though. He just needs to multitask. Right now he’s travelling to his afternoon audition prep seminar while he browses a book of classic love poetry. He’s not doing this for Kurt - though of course every poem has Kurt deep at the heart of it. Blaine’s pretty sure no-one can read words like these and not think of Kurt:

_Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war,  
How to divide the conquest of thy sight._

Blaine sighs again. Shakespeare, Burns: it doesn’t matter. Every word is Kurt. But Blaine’s not searching poetry for Kurt, but for June Dollaway. And no, no, definitely not in that way.

Blaine jots down a note in his phone.

_Then while we live, in love let’s so persever,  
That when we love no more, we may live ever._

Perfect. Soon he’ll be able to begin his onslaught.

Blaine cheerfully taps his plaid boat shoes against the train floor. He tends to accomplish the things he plans. He’s used to winning. His “courage” text messages worked on Kurt, who’s somehow become the bravest man Blaine has ever met.

And this is a first-rate scheme. It can’t fail. Surely a series of carefully selected excerpts of the greatest love poetry written in English (with a small selection from the Japanese) will convince June of the glories of love.

Once she’s been convinced of that, Blaine will reintroduce the love of his life to her. Then June will see Kurt through Blaine’s eyes, invite Kurt to be a part of this wonderful showcase they’re pulling together, and Kurt will shine beyond all expectations. They’ll shine together. Then all will be right with Blaine’s world.

**

Blaine’s an optimist. But in the dark, in Kurt’s bed, it’s impossible not to worry. He wants to make up for all the times he’s been less than perfect. He wants to give Kurt everything, to lay himself out and let Kurt take everything. Because he told Kurt there was an opportunity. He made Kurt bounce excitedly and fall into his arms. And though Blaine so, so wanted it to be true, it’s a lie. A tiny, white, ugly, terrifying lie.

Blaine’s an optimist. Why wouldn’t he be? He thinks he can turn this lie into the truth. After all this is love and music and Kurt - Kurt is amazing. Blaine would give him the whole world.

But what if he can’t, what if Kurt finds out that Blaine lied, after all the times he’s promised that he’ll be honest with Kurt? The lie just burst out; he’s got no excuse save that he couldn’t stand to say anything less than a resounding and unasked for yes to Kurt. But Kurt can be cold when he feels wronged. The last time Blaine revealed a horrible truth he lost Kurt for what seemed like forever. Okay, the circumstances were different. But what if Kurt sees Blaine for all his weakness and turns away again?

So however far Blaine opens himself to Kurt, however much he makes Kurt’s clear, watchful eyes glaze over with lust and love, the lie sits between them. It thuds like a stone in Blaine’s stomach as they have sex. And when he comes with Kurt shuddering above him and buried deep inside him, it’s incredible, it’s dizzying, it makes him forget and believe all at once. But it makes him feel sick to the heart too.

Blaine’s not Kurt, who botched a note for his father’s sake, who handed Blaine a showcase of his own. Sometimes it feels like Blaine doesn’t have anything to give. So he gives himself. What if it’s not enough?

**

Blaine and June are in the rehearsal space she’s arranged for the showcase. She’s sipping champagne. Blaine enjoys this part. He likes talking with June, who is herself so successful, who presumes upon her own success and therefore presumes upon Blaine’s. She sings his praises and looks at him with glittering eyes. Of course he enjoys this part. He loves being the person Kurt first fell in love with, the person who won over not one but two high schools, the person everybody likes, the person who succeeds.

It’s not that he wants Kurt to be less than Blaine, it’s just that he wants Kurt to look at him with all that bright admiration again. He wants to feel worthy of it. And everything June tells him reminds him that he is.

“Oh. Oh yes, you must sing this, Blaine.” June slides over some sheet music. Blaine can’t distinguish advice from a command when June speaks. She has an imperiousness he admires and is at times silenced by. He smiles vaguely as he reads the music.

“O-kay?”

“I love Joan Jett,” says June with a lift of her chin. “Just give it a try.” And that one’s a command.

Blaine slides in behind the piano with June hovering behind him. He toys with the keys experimentally then hits the chord he needs. It’s more of a guitar song really.

_"I hate myself for loving you_  
Can’t break free from the things that you do  
I wanna walk but I run back to you. That’s why  
I hate myself for loving you." 

He knows it’s only ever going to be acceptable, not the compelling note they need to end the showcase. They’ve tried Pulp’s “Common People” and Bob Wills’ “Time Changes Everything.” Even Kelly Clarkson’s “Since U Been Gone” isn’t right. Of course, the problem could be that the songs share a theme.

“Can I make a suggestion?” Blaine asks carefully.

June narrows her eyes. “You may.”

He makes it casual. “We could make this one a love song.”

June groans with all the drama she can muster. “Blaine! After all I’ve done. Don’t you trust me?”

But Blaine has seen theatrics before. And he has something he believes in to fight for. He pushes through his discomfort. “June, you are the best and you want to showcase the best,” he says. “Let me be my best.”

June looks at him long and hard. “You are not merely whom you love,” she says. “And stop sending me poetry for heaven’s sake. John Donne? How old do you think I am?”

Blaine keeps his smile firmly in place. He had been particularly proud of the Donne.

**

Blaine’s on his way home finally, or at least, to the loft. There’s less than a week before the showcase, so rehearsals are constantly running late. And he still doesn’t have a solution to the problem of June and Kurt and all the things he wants 

It’s dark when Blaine slides open the door. Kurt’s sitting mostly in shadow on the couch. He looks up at Blaine and Blaine’s breath hitches. Not in the good way. 

“Kurt?” he says.

“There’s not a part for me, is there?” Kurt asks quietly. “In the showcase. There was never going to be a part for me.”

Blaine swallows, hard. “No. I-. No.”

“I was thinking and thinking and then it was so obvious,” says Kurt.

Blaine wishes he could see his face. He goes to switch on the lamp.

“Leave it,” says Kurt. “We can talk in the dark.”

“Kurt. I thought I could- I didn’t mean- I,” Blaine pauses. “I’m so sorry.”

“I think I knew,” Kurt says. “Even at the time. I should have known. But I believed you. Because it was you. I was stupid. She hated me, Blaine.”

“Well hate-”

“Blaine, stop. She hated me. But she isn’t the one who hurt me.”

“No,” says Blaine miserably. “I’m so sorry.” He wants to say more but Kurt isn’t even looking at him. He asks, “Do you want me to leave?”

Kurt looks at him for a long moment. “I’m just so angry with you. I’m exhausted by this. We could have had the fun of preparing together. I’d have envied you every second of it but I’d have supported you. I’d have loved watching you. And instead you’ve been weird and secretive and I just couldn’t work out what was wrong. I thought I had done something wrong.”

“Kurt-” says Blaine. It feels hopeless.

“I don’t know that I want to look at you,” says Kurt with sudden fire. Blaine feels cold inside. 

“I’ll go,” offers Blaine, and is terrified by offering.

“No.” Kurt sighs. More than the anger Blaine hates the disappointment. “I cooked you dinner. It’s late. Too late for you to head all the way home. And Rachel is out for hours. It would be a pity to waste time alone.”

Blaine sinks onto the couch. He doesn’t try to touch Kurt. “Let me explain. Please Kurt.”

Kurt says, “It’s not that I don’t get it. Not exactly. I know you. I just don’t know how I can believe what you say. And it’s more than that because- you didn’t believe I’d support you if I didn’t get anything out of it. I don’t know who you think I am.”

“Kurt, I think you’re amazing.”

Kurt flicks a distorted smile to the floor. He’s never been more beautiful and Blaine’s never felt further away. But then Kurt looks up. His eyes meet Blaine’s. “Fuck, Blaine. Do you think I’ll only love you if you give me something?”

Blaine winces. “No, of course not.”

Kurt looks at him in silence. He blinks slowly. It’s late and they’re both tired. 

“Is this- fixable?” asks Blaine shakily.

Kurt shakes his head, exasperated. He stands. “Don’t be an idiot. Of course it is.” It doesn’t feel like a victory. “But not tonight, I guess.”

He heats up the food in a saucepan and Blaine eats in silence. It’s hard to swallow, but Kurt cooked for him. When they go to bed they keep a space between them. Blaine looks at the dark ceiling for what seems like hours. He’s been here before. It is heartbreaking.

**

They shift closer in their sleep. Their bodies are accustomed to one another in a way that’s never been true before. And so, in the light of morning, Kurt is nearby, sleep-warm by Blaine’s side. Blaine’s curled into him, his arm draped over Kurt’s chest. Kurt stirs and twists his head toward Blaine. Blaine takes it as a good sign. He smiles. Kurt’s eyes warm a little. He closes them as he speaks.

“I just want to- I have this thought. Can we pretend we’re strangers? You’re some kind of-” He opens his eyes and they’re deep and green. “You’re you but you’re some kind of affluent patron of the arts. You’re all perfectly fitted dinner suits and polished loafers and gorgeous lonely businessman’s eyes. And I’m just a guy singing in a smoky French café. You see me and-”

“If I saw you singing, Kurt, I’d have to have you.”

Kurt blushes. It’s sweet.

“Yes. Okay. So you take me home,” he says. “You’re wealthy and handsome and successful and all the world could be yours. But-” he breaks off.

“But I’d only want you. I’d see you up there and I’d only want you.” Blaine takes confidence in Kurt’s nervousness - maybe there will always be this to and fro. “So after you finish singing you’re leaning against the bar, all lean lines in your skinny pants. And I head over-”

“We only speak a few words,” says Kurt. “But in the end you ask and I agree and you take me back to your fancy French hotel room looking out over the lights of Paris.”

“And it’s nothing to do with money or patronage-”

Kurt’s smile is faintly twisted. “It’s probably something to do with money and patronage,” he says mildly.

Blaine looks at Kurt. He looks as though there’s no past mistakes, no future fears, and just lets himself see Kurt as he is, lying there still and lovely. “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen or heard or spoken to. Of course I want you. But tell me, Kurt, why did you come with me?”

Kurt’s voice is soft. “Because you’re handsome and kind and irresistibly charming. You’re everything I want in a man. We talked and you smiled that smile of yours and I couldn’t say no. I didn’t want to say no.”

“So don’t say no.” Blaine reaches out and runs a hand about Kurt’s neck as he speaks. Kurt shivers. His eyes are blown-out; his breathing is shaky. In his whole life Blaine has never wanted to resist this thing between them. 

“What do you want from me, now I’m here?”

Blaine’s body aches for Kurt. “Just. Don’t say no. Take me and spread me underneath you, and fuck me the way I want you to, until all I can remember is your hands and your eyes and you right there inside.” He takes a shuddering breath. “As soon as I saw you I wanted you. I wanted to be pinned down and mindless beneath you. I wanted you to fuck me so I can’t even think.”

“God, Blaine.” Kurt’s tongue flickers out to wet his lower lip. His eyes slip shut for a fraction. “Okay,” he breathes. “Okay.” He leans in and kisses Blaine. It’s experienced and quickly dirty but it also feels like it’s the first time. 

Blaine doesn’t know if there’s any poetry about this. It’s not snowdrops and crashing waves. It’s not everything. It’s just now, this one moment. 

**

Blaine stretches languorously. It’s late morning and he needs to go but he hates to leave this strange, safe, unexpectedly French bubble they’ve created. 

“I still- Blaine, I don’t think I can come on Friday,” says Kurt. He tugs at the covers. 

“Oh,” says Blaine. “Okay.” He had been blocking all thought of the showcase.

“It’s- I feel like it will hurt too much. It’s your big day though-. I’m so proud of you. Maybe you can sing it all through for me afterwards.” Blaine wonders what Kurt will think of the set list. Maybe he could add something more romantic to the list when he sings for Kurt. Kurt wouldn’t know. Blaine catches himself and shakes his head fractionally. No. Next time he’s not going to lie. 

“I just wish everything wasn’t so tangled up,” says Kurt. 

“No, I understand,” says Blaine because he wishes the same. 

“I’ll try though. To come. Save a seat for me.” He catches Blaine’s flinch and his eyes narrow. “Blaine,” he says. “Was she even going to let me be there and watch?”

“She thinks you’re a distraction,” says Blaine. The only good thing about saying this is that it’s the truth. 

“She’s a witch,” Kurt mutters mostly to himself, “and not the good kind.” He rolls away. 

**

The showcase songs have been chosen. It’s all Joplin and Sinatra and some country guy Blaine’s never heard of and Kelly Clarkson’s Since U Been Gone. It’s all break-up songs. 

Blaine’s a professional, he’s got this in hand. But everything that ordinarily feels like a joy feels a little like a duty. He still smiles and works hard. He works long hours. He hardly has time for anything beyond this. But it’s worth it, it’s his showcase. He has a responsibility to be the best he can be, for his school, for all his schools, for his parents, for his friends, for Kurt. And for himself. So he does his best. And his best is pretty amazing. But underneath his heart hurts.

They’re finishing the tech rehearsal. It’s two days before the showcase. 

“Thanks Francie, thanks Malia,” says Blaine to the sound crew. He waves and gives a thumbs up to the lighting team up near the ceiling with their gear. “Good job everyone.” He sits at the piano to work through a section that has a niggling key change. 

June approaches and leans against the piano. She looks at Blaine consideringly. Then she sighs. “Fine,” she says. “Fine. Throw in your love song.”

He knows his face lights up at her words. “Really?”

She barks out a laugh. She does genuinely like him. “I want your best, Blaine Anderson. Look, I don’t believe in all your love nonsense but I can’t deny the fact that you do. I just hope it doesn’t hamper your career too drastically. Some day this love story of yours is going to fall apart and all the poetry in the world isn’t going to prevent that.” She stops. “But for now I’ll accept that your best probably includes a love song.” 

“It does,” says Blaine. He’s already running through options in his head. “It truly does.”

“Just one,” she says swiftly. “Don’t get any ideas.”

**

Blaine gets ready in the loft. He’ll be made-up and polished at the theater but he wanted to dress here. Rachel and Mercedes and Santana and Artie and Sam are all there. Kurt too, of course. None of them is going to the showcase. The tickets are more than any of them can afford even with Sam’s suggestion of combining their forces to send Kurt. 

Sam raises a glass. “To Blaine, and his first step in conquering the world!” He adds, “For good, of course, not for evil.” 

Kurt doesn’t say much, but he fixes Blaine’s bowtie and smooths his hands over the shoulders of his dinner jacket. 

“Your car’s here,” says Rachel from the window. She’s high pitched with excitement for him. 

Blaine hugs everyone. Kurt smooths his jacket again. 

“Tomorrow I want to see you do all the songs. A special showing,” Kurt says.

“Absolutely,” says Blaine and kisses him. “I love you.” 

“I love you.”

“Go on,” says Mercedes. “Get out of here,” and they all push him out of the door.

**

Blaine has never felt quite the kind of anger Joplin sings about. But under the spotlight he imagines he has, and lets it rip through him as though he knows it all too well. The Sinatra is easier in a way, and more painful, all heartache and longing. Everything goes well. He loves performing. 

Halfway through he glances to the left side of the house. For a moment he thinks he’s imagining things. Because Kurt is there. His eyes shine as Blaine finishes the song and the whole room applauds. Kurt cheers as he claps along with them. 

Blaine channels all the love he has for this man into the last few songs. 

Afterwards Blaine thanks June. It’s easy to do. She’s been more than good to him. He tries not to be distracted by the thought of Kurt somewhere in the room. 

“Blaine,” June says firmly. “I need you to speak with some people. Important people. Your boy can wait.”

“Of course,” says Blaine comfortably. He’s got this. If there’s any night that Blaine is going to excel at, it’s this. Still, he always knows where Kurt is, even among the diamonds of high society in this huge room. Kurt is just better. 

It’s more than an hour before he has time to stand with Kurt in the foyer. “You’re here,” Blaine breathes, taking in Kurt and his perfect suit and perfect hair and perfect self.

“I am.” Kurt is smiling. 

 

“But how?”

“I suspect that June sent a ticket. There wasn’t a note. But she also sent a very nice Maserati and no one I know could afford that. Blaine, you were incredible.”

Kurt’s look is bright and adoring and it fills Blaine’s heart to bursting. 

“I was incredible because you were there,” he says.

Kurt’s facial expression falls somewhere between fond and exasperated. His words, though, are simply loving. “You were incredible before you ever saw me. You’ve never been less than incredible.”

Blaine beams as they hug. “The other day, rehearsing, I almost thought I’d give it all up,” he says after a moment. “I couldn’t find the joy in it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” says Kurt. “Look how everyone loves you.” He waves a hand at the room. “Let me be clear, even if you gave all of this up to, I don’t know, open a puppy shelter or do experimental art, or teach English as a Second Language, I’d still love you. Of course I would. But Blaine Anderson-Warbler-Hummel, you are not allowed to give it all up.”

“Okay,” says Blaine. “I won’t.” He smiles happily as he kisses Kurt. There’s definitely poetry about this. And novels. And songs. Hundreds and hundreds of songs.


End file.
